


Swoon

by BaggerHeda



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Okay maybe a little bit of plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Smut, and I am not sorry about the smut at all, but they also have sex, so I am sorry about the angst, they are working through some stuff okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 02:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaggerHeda/pseuds/BaggerHeda
Summary: She was close enough now to breathe in the scent of Nicole, and the fragrant hint of cedar that still lingered on the uniform. Clean, and earthy, and sweet. She asked, “May I?” as her fingers reached forward.“Sure,” husked out Nicole.“Well,Officer Haught,” said Waverly, slipping back into role as the tips of her fingers traced over Nicole’s nameplate, neatly pinned above her breast. “Actually I do have some questions that you might help answer for me.”*****Waverly misses Nicole’s khakis since they’ve been retired. Nicole might be convinced to bring them out again for special occasions.





	Swoon

Waverly knew exactly where the khakis were.

Of course she did. She remembered those pants fondly, because she’d _really_ missed them since they’d been retired from daily wear by the Purgatory sheriff’s department. As much as Nicole claimed the new PSD tactical-style uniforms were more professional, or comfortable, or easier for movement while on patrol, Waverly knew what she liked: the sight of Nicole’s shapely curves clad in the khaki trousers, tight enough to show off the sway of her hips, the wide leather duty belt riding low on her waist. Especially the rear view, to be honest. Back when they had started dating, Waverly sometimes left her scarf in the patrol car on purpose when Nicole was dropping her off somewhere, knowing that Nicole would offer to get it for her. Then she’d stand, arms crossed and her elbows in her hands, a little smile crossing her face and her eyes focused on Nicole’s posterior as she bent and reached into the sedan to retrieve the scarf.

Maybe Nicole never caught on; maybe she was just playing along with Waverly’s little ruse.

Other times, when they found themselves alone at the station for a few moments, Waverly couldn’t keep her hands to herself, running fingers along the seams of the khakis, enjoying the satiny texture of the teal decorative ribbon in contrast to the roughness of the poly blend, enjoying the flex of Nicole’s thigh under the trace of her fingertips. Waverly knew to stay away from the gun side when Nicole was wearing the duty belt, of course. She had no desire to test Nicole’s reflexes and training to keep her holstered weapon safe from others, even a trusted lover. That was fine; she’d sidle up to Nicole at a bit of an angle, murmuring “hey” as her right hand dropped to Nicole’s hip in front of her radio, idly fondling the curves there, and maybe her left hand would trace the double-pronged buckle of the heavy leather belt, before both hands would rise to play with the collar of Nicole’s shirt and the silky red hair at the back of her neck.

When Nicole was in uniform, but not wearing the duty belt, all bets were off. It seemed Waverly could scarcely contain her longing to touch all of Nicole - hands teasing into red hair, or tucking up behind strong shoulders as she wrapped her arms around her love, or smoothing over the shapely thighs framed by the fabric of those trousers, running her palms across the broad expanse of firm muscle underneath. Or, she’d lean into an embrace, and as they pressed their hips together her arms would encircle Nicole’s waist, before her hands would brush downward to cup the curve of her ass. (If they were somewhere semi-private/semi-public, like in the otherwise empty break room at the station, Nicole would warn her off pretty quickly, sometimes catching and physically moving her hands, whispering _you know better_ in her ear. But if they were home, Nicole would gladly permit the touch and Waverly would happily knead her fingers against the fine shape of Nicole’s ass. They’d usually both be grinning into a kiss before much longer, as their hands would begin to range all over.)

*****

Nicole made it plain from the beginning that she was _not_ a fan of the khakis. She said that she thought they were drab and not very functional. No matter how hard Waverly tried to convince her otherwise, she would not budge.

“Ugh, Waves, they’re dumpy, I don’t know how you can say you like them.” Nicole was standing in the kitchen, washing up a couple of dishes, getting ready for her shift that morning. “Did you want a ride into town with me today?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch a ride home with Wynonna,” said Waverly, sitting at the kitchen table, swirling the dregs of her tea. “They are _not_ dumpy. You look great in them. They are sexy, sexy pants.”

Nicole scoffed so hard she gave a little snort, which made Waverly giggle. “Yeah, right. Opposite of sexy pants.”

“I’m allowed my opinion,” said Waverly with a sly grin.

“Alright, then, I’ll let Nedley know that you think his trousers are sexy,” said Nicole.

“News flash,” said Waverly. “They’re sexy on _you._ The sheriff, mmm … not so much.” They both laughed, and when Nicole asked Waverly if she’d like a second cup of tea, she’d agreed, and then sat admiring the shape of Nicole in those maligned khakis as she’d bent to refill the kettle at the sink.

*****

One afternoon, Nicole had called bubbling over with enthusiasm, following the strange events with the Marzaniok. Waverly wasn’t quite tracking the conversation - why hadn’t Wynonna, or Nicole for that matter, called her earlier to let her know what was going on when the team had gone into action? And why was the whole day only in hazy bits and pieces in her memory? Before she could puzzle it out, Nicole was telling Waverly about her conversation with Nedley, in the aftermath of a freaking _monster battle_ in the station. As proud as she was to relay what the sheriff had confided in her, as happy as she was to have earned a measure of trust from her mentor, Nicole sounded most pleased about how she’d convinced him to adopt a new departmental uniform.

“I told him … no more khakis,” she said with a smug lilt in her voice.

Waverly’s pleasure in her girlfriend’s happiness took a small hit from this troubling development. “Wait. But your butt looks so cute in those!” she said, only a little bit teasing. To Nicole’s quick objections, _oh god, really,_ she insisted. “Yeah! Khakis, swoon.”

Nicole laughed, that half indulgent, half incredulous chuckle she had. “Oh, Waverly.”

*****

Once the new uniforms were authorized and procured, Waverly brought an unused garment bag over to Nicole’s house, and carefully hung up the crisply pressed pants and shirts, added some cedar chips in the bottom of the bag to keep away moths, and watched as Nicole stored it at the back of her hall closet.

By then, time had begun to warp and bend for Waverly, and by then, she thought she knew why. The demon had been barely perceptible at first, a few odd things that didn’t make much sense, a few missing minutes. It accelerated over the weeks. As hard as she fought against Mictian prying into her mind bit by bit, Waverly knew she was losing ground, and it frightened her beyond words. There was only one thing, it seemed, that kept it at bay, and that was Nicole. Just being in the officer’s presence, and sometimes even just thinking about her, brought up a whole raft of emotions that let her push the whispered thoughts, the creeping darkness away. She clung to it like the lifeline it was, and because of that, a tiny part of her hated the new uniform, even though it was undeniably attractive. It was _different,_ and she didn’t want different, she wanted her Nicole, warm and familiar and wearing the old uniform with the pristine white Stetson, she _needed_ it like the air she breathed. It felt like it was the only thing that let her hang on to herself.

The unraveling horror of the demon moving from body to body, the sinking relief of the team finally defeating it, the slow-motion _now what_ panic of Wynonna’s secret revealed. Waverly just wanted to sleep for a day. She later found out she’d slept for six weeks, when the town was under the influence of the sandman Hypnos. That was the final straw. _Jesus frikkin’ crap-o-rama_ she needed just _one_ normal day. Just one. Was that too much to ask?

Nicole wanted to help, of course. She’d come to the homestead bearing Waverly’s favorite comfort food, the sweet and sour soup with the peanut butter. She’d been all soft eyes and kind smile, telling Waverly that whatever she needed, she was here for. Much later, as they were snuggled under blankets and Nicole’s warm hands were tracing idle circles across Waverly’s belly, both a little sleepy from their pleasure, Waverly finally began to talk.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” she said.

“Of course,” said Nicole, with that little shy head dip she had. “How could I not?”

Waverly haltingly tried to put the whole thing in words, even though she still had trouble sorting it all out in her head, and it was already starting to fade from memory, like how even a vivid dream will crumble to dust before the sun is halfway up the sky. Legion, and the wretched feeling of her thoughts slipping from her, sand through her fingers. How it just never, never stopped, the malevolent undercurrent nibbling at her in tiny increments. And how she’d taught herself to fight it, the effort exhausting but the only thing keeping her from sliding away entirely: by thinking about Nicole.

“Me,” said Nicole, a quiet surprise on her face.

“Yeah,” said Waverly. “You. Whenever I was with you, it … it couldn’t get at me, mostly. Once I figured that out, I used it as much as I could. There were nights where I said your name over and over, and tried to remember every detail I could about you, just to keep it away.”

“Oh, baby,” Nicole said sorrowfully. “That’s kind of the sweetest thing in the world and the most awful thing ever all rolled into one.”

“And Mictian was tricky, too, lying all the time about everything. Or, mixing up truth and lies until I didn’t know what was what. The lie that it told me about you was that you didn’t care about me, that you didn’t care any more.”

“Oh no. Oh no,” said Nicole, stricken. Looking like she was holding back tears, she laid a gentle palm across Waverly’s cheek.

Waverly caught Nicole’s hand in hers, began kissing her fingers. “I know, I know. It’s gone now, baby. I hated it whenever it said that.” She paused for a moment, let the thought come to her. “I think it knew how much I loved, how much I missed the old uniform, because it told me you got the new uniform because you wanted me to leave you alone. I super hated that, too.”

Tears really were leaking from Nicole’s eyes now, slowly sliding down her face. “God, baby. I am so, so sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry about anything,” said Waverly, brushing her fingertips across Nicole’s cheeks, her own eyes welling up. “I know the new stuff works better for you. But the old outfit, I always loved how it looked on you and, well, it’s got a lot of history. It’s what my daddy wore, and it’s what you wore when I first met you, and it’s just kind of special to me, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Nicole husked out. “I think I understand, a little.”

Waverly sighed, and leaned in. “And it … it kind of saved me. So I’m always gonna love that old uniform, and seeing you in it, even if it’s just me remembering you.” Nicole’s smile, weak and watery, must have matched her own, and Waverly latched onto it. It felt like hope flickering after a long darkness, lighting the possibility of finding their way back to okay again.

They talked long into the night that night, a slow conversation whispered between kisses, the start of healing the hurt that had come into their lives.

*****

The following day, Nicole had texted her.

**[Nicole]:** Hey I was thinking  
**[Nicole]:** About the khakis  & how much you like them  
**[Nicole]:** And I wouldn’t wear them around town any more but if you want I can bring them with me when I come over tmrw  
**[Nicole]:** If it would help. If it’d be bad then never mind. Let me know.

Waverly grinned as she considered the offer, hearing Nicole’s formal-sounding “official” voice in her head. Oh, yes. If Nicole was willing, she most certainly was as well. She picked up her phone and texted back.

**[Waverly]:** Yes pls I would like that  
**[Waverly]:** A lot

She paused for a second, then added eleven unicorn emojis and a handful of hearts, and sent that as well.

*****

The next evening, Waverly had busied herself in the kitchen, finishing the last minute details of the dinner she’d planned for the two of them, when her ears caught the sound of wheels on the gravel drive. A bit giddy, she rushed to the front door and flung it open.

What she saw made her heart skip, a happy little thrill. Nicole hadn’t carried her old uniform to the homestead, she’d _worn_ it. She’d parked the cruiser in a different spot than she usually used, the side of the yard Waverly considered the “guest spot,” and as she exited the vehicle and carefully seated the Stetson on her head, she straightened to her full height and her eyes swept the yard, the barn, the main building. Waverly found herself grinning, her heart beating faster. For whatever reason, this was Nicole in full cop mode and at her most professional, and it was magnificent. Waverly took in the pressed uniform blouse covered by the thicker jacket, unzipped and hanging open from the car ride, PSD emblems splashed bright against dark fabric at the shoulder. She noted the wide leather belt, heavily accoutered, weighted down with the tools Nicole would carry daily for her job. Most of all, she saw the khakis. The pants she adored highlighted the long legs, the lovely swell of hip, flared to a neatly hemmed cuff above workboots that might be more at home on a ranch than in a patrol car. Topping all, the wide brim of the Stetson haloed Nicole’s pleasant smile as their eyes finally met, the white hat serving to contrast the fiery red hair, now loose in wavy curls instead of captured in a tight French braid.

God, it was breathtaking. The whole effect was even better than Waverly remembered.

She started to move toward the porch stairs, to meet halfway, but she was halted by Nicole, with a small palm-forward ‘wait’ gesture. Curious, Waverly paused. Nicole finally spoke up, pitching her voice to carry across the yard, her eyes snapping with amusement as she came striding forward, the fingers of her left hand wrapping around the duty belt with habitual ease.

“Ma’am? You requested someone from the Purgatory sheriff’s department to come out here?”

Realization dawned. _Oh, we’re_ roleplaying. _Oh my god. Oh, my god._ Waverly told herself she shouldn’t be surprised how instantly arousal had sparked inside her, but there it was, the swoon. Her knees felt weak as sweethot fire raced in her belly and lower, and Nicole was looking like _that_ and offering to play a new game with her, and it was about eighteen kinds of delicious she wasn’t expecting. She saw that Nicole was searching into her face, patiently waiting for her to signal whether or not they would continue on with the game. Waverly didn’t take long to give her reply.

“Yes, Officer, thank you so much. Would you like to come in?”

Waverly held the door open while Nicole stepped inside, ducking her head while she removed the Stetson, holding it loosely and fiddling with the brim a little with her long, agile fingers. Her eyes flicked over the foyer and the sitting room, alert, still in cop mode. Waverly wiggled a bit standing next to her, already eager, the heat that flushed across her face and upper chest probably visible and she didn’t care. Nicole, still in her professional voice, said, “So, is there a problem you’d like me to look at?”

Waverly, flustered, stammered out, “Officer, could you … just one moment … I need to …” and she bolted to the kitchen. She turned the oven down to its lowest setting (the lasagna could hold at warming practically indefinitely) and crammed the green salad back in the cooler. When she came back out, Nicole was waiting politely in the same position by the door. “Sorry, I was, uh, in the middle of fixing dinner,” she apologized. She drifted toward Nicole, coming to stand directly in front of her, then paused, unsure what her next move should be.

Nicole caught on to her uncertainty as well. In a low, soft voice, she murmured, “This okay with you, Waves?”

“This is _really_ okay,” said Waverly. She was close enough now to breathe in the scent of Nicole, and the fragrant hint of cedar that still lingered on the uniform. Clean, and earthy, and sweet. She asked, “May I?” as her fingers reached forward.

“Sure,” husked out Nicole.

“Well, _Officer Haught,_ ” said Waverly, slipping back into role as the tips of her fingers traced over Nicole’s nameplate, neatly pinned above her breast. It thrilled her to hear Nicole give a tiny hitched breath as she did so. “Actually I do have some questions that you might help answer for me.” Her hand trailed down the front placket of Nicole’s shirt, barely brushing against the buttons. “May I take your hat?”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said Nicole as she offered up the Stetson. “Happy to be of service.”

“But, I’m afraid you’ll have to come upstairs,” said Waverly. She set the Stetson atop her own head, tipping it back, as she gave her sauciest grin. Nicole’s eyes, dark and wide, traversed across her face and down her body, a leisurely journey, before returning to her lips. Waverly positively itched to dive into the desire she saw pooled there.

“No problem at all,” said Nicole, her voice coming more gruff now. “So. What questions can I answer for you upstairs.”

Waverly tangled her fingers in with Nicole’s free hand, starting to draw them both up the staircase. “It involves my bed. And those khakis. And how they would look on the floor next to it.” Nicole’s easy laughter accompanied them up the stairs, and then they were inside the bedroom and the door closing, Waverly’s hands quick and greedy to touch every bit of Nicole she could reach.

The hat, though. The Stetson, with its wide stiff brim, was interfering with the kissing, and Waverly (like any country girl) knew that kissin’ don’t work when the shorter one is wearin’ the hat. She plucked it off and set it back on Nicole’s head.

Nicole growled, playfully. “Don’t wreck my hat, Waves.”

“I’m gonna wreck _you,_ ” Waverly smirked. “You keep that on.”

“It’ll get in the way,” said Nicole.

“I’ll just have to kiss you someplace else, then,” retorted Waverly.

Her hands smoothed over the front of Nicole’s chest, the swell of her breasts caught in the compression sports bra Waverly knew Nicole liked to wear under her uniform. Waverly wondered if it was the black one, or the turquoise one. She’d find out soon enough. She let Nicole pull the cropped Henley top she was wearing up and over her head in one smooth motion, and then set to work unbuttoning Nicole’s shirt as warm hands settled on her ribcage, brushing up against the underside of her breasts. Soon she had the buttons unfastened, was tugging the shirttails free of Nicole’s pants.

Nicole was maneuvering them both toward the bed, walking Waverly backwards until her knees fetched up against the mattress and buckled. Waverly put her hands up to Nicole’s hips to keep her from following down - she wanted her standing, at least for now. Her hands slid under the dark navy tank top Nicole wore as an undershirt, pushing it up to expose the flat planes of her torso. And ah, it was the turquoise bra underneath there. Waverly leaned forward, her lips sliding against the skin of Nicole’s belly, the muscles warm and twitching under her mouth, as her hands fumbled with the buckle of Nicole’s duty belt. She’d never been smooth with the damned thing. She quickly gave up, murmuring, “Here, take this off.”

With a practiced twist, Nicole unfastened the belt, unslinging it, and set it safely out of the way with her long reach. Then, she was back standing in front of Waverly, threading dexterous fingers into long hair. “You doin’ okay?” she gritted out.

“Yeah,” replied Waverly, breath coming fast now. Her fingers were at the belt and button and zipper of the khakis, as her eyes drank in every glorious detail about Nicole: the heaving chest and quivering limbs, the eyes dark with plain lust, the uniform now hanging open and disheveled from that gorgeous body, still crowned by the Stetson. “You are _so_ fucking hot.”

“Huh, always Haught.” Nicole’s voice above her was all heat and gravel. She continued, saying, “How d’you want this, Waves? You wanna go fast or slow?”

The raw edge in her own voice surprised Waverly as she answered. “We’re gonna go _hard._ ” She pulled the khakis, along with Nicole’s boxer briefs, down just far enough for her hand to find room, and then she was inside Nicole, to the knuckle and fingers driving urgent.

Nicole groaned out, a noise of such unvarnished animal pleasure that Waverly felt her own core tighten and flutter at the sound of it. One of her hands went to the bedpost, steadying herself, while the other twisted hard into the hair at the back of Waverly’s head. She gasped out, “ _Fuck._ Waves. Yeah. That’s, oh my god, yes, _uhhn_ ” before settling into a grunting chant, _yeah, yeah,_ that matched the rough pace that Waverly had set for them.

Heat between them built fierce and steady. Waverly was riding hard into it, the furious sway of Nicole's body, throwing herself into the unleashed pleasure. Nicole’s honey-sweet voice above her, now ragged and rasping as they rose, pulled at her, dragging her up. She felt like she was drowning, awash and consumed, the feverish work of her hand and Nicole pressing back against her the only thing she knew. The angle was a little wrong; Waverly couldn’t get her mouth in play, not the way she wanted to, anyway (although Nicole certainly didn’t seem to mind.) Instead, she curled her other hand behind Nicole’s waist to reach down and grab firm hold of her ass, and she ran her tongue and her mouth across Nicole’s belly, savouring the silk of her skin, feeling the jolt of her hips against her cheek and her jaw, as she twisted her fingers deep. She inhaled Nicole through her open mouth, tasting the sounds above her, the moaning cries a match to the rich pulse she held in her palm. “Fuck, baby, that’s good,” she sighed out.

“Keep goin’, yeah,” grunted Nicole, and Waverly groaned along with her with each stroke and thrust, panting and electric, knowing she could never stop for everything in all the world. She caught her breath when she managed to hazard a glance up. Nicole’s face, lightly sheened, fairly shone with concentrated effort, the intense focus that meant she was about to come, was holding herself right there at the brink. Her eyes were closed to slits, her jaw jutted slightly forward, and she radiated so much raw sexual power that Waverly thought she could singe the walls of the room.

“God, baby, yeah! You’re there, you’re there,” cried out Waverly as Nicole gave in.

“Uhhn. _YESSS,”_ came Nicole’s loud shout, rising from her lifted face, her chin tipped up to glory. Waverly hung on, letting the pleasure course through her bones as it rattled through Nicole’s body, heated as the summer sun. Nicole’s legs shook and she collapsed a little bit onto Waverly before she caught herself, weak with release. “Uhh. Wait.”

Waverly stilled. She held on to Nicole for a moment longer, then asked gently, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just … lemme …” Nicole rumbled, as she carefully eased herself down.

As Nicole was sinking back to lie flat on the bed, her feet still on the floor, Waverly caught the Stetson up off her head and deftly hung it on the bedpost, which made Nicole chuckle. Then, she was crawling up to press warm kisses all over Nicole’s face. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Baby, we’re just getting started,” hummed Nicole, sounding amused. “Help me get these clothes off, will you?”

*****

Dinner was hours late, not an infrequent occurrence with them. Waverly was right, the lasagna hadn’t suffered one bit for the extra time. She was nibbling on her second helping, a small slice cut from the edge, because she liked the crispier bits anyway.

Nicole, who had only gotten halfway through the beer she was nursing, set down the bottle and gave Waverly a crooked little smile. “Well,” she said.

“Well,” Waverly echoed back, wondering what was coming.

“I was a _teeny_ bit worried, how it would go, bringing out the old uniform after our talk the other night,” said Nicole. “But that seemed pretty overall positive.”

“Yes,” laughed Waverly, “it was. What, were you worried I’d be upset, or sad?”

“I’m glad you’re not. But there’s a lot there,” said Nicole, reaching to take Waverly’s hand in hers. “And I think it’s one of those things where you don’t know how it will be until you’re in the middle of it.”

Waverly sighed. “You’re probably right.” She paused for a moment, then said, “I appreciate you bringing out the uniform. And the hat. I know you kinda don't really like to do it.”

“I don’t mind. I didn’t mind, Waves,” said Nicole, gently. “Just … maybe we can save it for special occasions, yeah?”

“Sure. Special occasions.” Waverly paused. A thousand emotions were swirling through her brain, but the one she heard loudest, and the one she knew the most, was the deep warm love she carried for Nicole. It had been her grace before; it would be again. “This felt pretty special, though.”

Nicole squeezed her fingers, brief and tight. “It sure did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love these characters so much.
> 
> Just a little Wayhaught sexytime for you ... until I got to thinking about this story, how it's set in the first half of season 2, and what Waverly was going through at that time. And maybe, while Waverly enjoys Nicole's new look, she also has a reason to love the old uniform, and she means it when she says (in Purgatory Case Files) that she thinks Nicole's butt looks cute in the khakis, but it might be a bit deeper than we think.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! If you like the story, please leave a comment or kudo.
> 
> You may find me flailing about on Twitter at [@boo_in_la](http://twitter.com/boo_in_la).


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